


Gentled

by Owlix



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, D/s, Fluff, M/M, Masochism, Master/Pet, Non-Sexual Kink, Physical Restraint, Submission, gestalt / combiner psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlix/pseuds/Owlix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kup has a lot of bad memories from the war - and a Decepticon, tamed to hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bibliotecaria_D](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliotecaria_D/gifts).



> I wrote this for Bibliotecaria-D. Well, really, I wrote it to deal with all my unresolved HooKup feelings caused by reading parts of Dropped Stitches, so it's a gift for Bibliotecaria-D that is also for myself.
> 
> This is set in the same continuity as [the HooKup series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/25170) and probably won't make much sense outside of that context.

Hook eased out of recharge to a hand at the side of his face.

His Master’s. Hook leaned into that hand, pushing his face against that familiar palm. Kup allowed this, hand open, fingers comfortable and relaxed. Hook felt a little thrill at this as his systems booted. The fingers shifted against his face, searching. They found the strap at the side of his face and tugged. Hook fought the temptation to pull against it, to turn that pressure into a little bit of pain. His optics flickered on.

Kup sat up in his berth, cygar unlit between his teeth. It was early, but he didn’t look like he’d recently woken. In fact, he seemed like he’d been awake for hours. He wasn’t looking at Hook. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything. His optics were distant. Unfocused. His face was turned away, towards the far wall.

Kup patted the berth in front of him with his free hand. “Up,” he said, and his voice held no static from recharge. No, he hadn’t slept in hours.

_Up_. Hook hesitated. He wanted to follow the command. He did. But he was tethered to the side of Kup’s berth, and the lead didn’t have enough room to reach. He could unclip it, technically, but he didn’t have permission, and he couldn’t even ask because he still wore his gag. Hook squirmed in place. Was Kup setting him up for an inevitable failure? Some emotion kicked at him, but he couldn’t untangle how much of it was fear and how much was eager anticipation. He wasn’t awake enough for this. He-

Kup’s finger’s slid away from his face and absently unclipped the tether. Freed of the restraint, Hook clambered to obey. He settled himself at the end of the berth, leaving a respectful space between them. It was a tight fit, and awkward - Kup’s berth wasn’t sized for a mech like Hook, let alone both of them at once.

Hook had figured out what this was all about, by now.

Kup was in a Mood.

Hook had seen this before. Even Hook’s Master, ruthless in ways that Hook couldn’t help but admire, was occasionally prone to this sort of mawkish Autobot sentimentality.

Not that the Decepticon faction was entirely immune to these sorts of feelings, of course. The long war had affected all of them. And being part of a gestalt meant that Hook had to acknowledge those changes more than most. The gestalt bond allowed almost nothing to be hidden among the group. He’d been relentlessly exposed to the emotions of his gestalt-mates, to their weaknesses and their shameful flaws. Despair had wracked through all of them after Scrapper’s death, weak and sentimental and utterly impossible to hide from each other.

But that was just it. Decepticons, at least, knew enough to be ashamed of such sentimentality. They knew enough to try to hide it.

Except that maybe Kup did too.

Hook had never seen him display such weaknesses of mood in public, or often. Only here, and rarely. Alone, in the company of his pet.

Hook was still turning that over in his head when his Master finally spared him a glance. Kup gestured, a faint tilt of his head giving Hook permission for contact.

Hook rushed him, pressing for closeness. Kup snorted - “Not on _top_ of me” - and shoved Hook off, but the rough handling was a reward, and Kup didn’t take his hand away afterwards. Instead, he forcibly adjusted Hook’s position on the berth- maybe because he actually wanted to, or maybe just to reassure Hook of his place.

Satisfied with his position, Kup stroked him. Hook pushed into the contact, and Kup shoved back - _stay_ \- before stroking him again, and again.

Kup’s frame was pleasantly warm. His hand was heavy and rough, even with this. Not gentle - never gentle. Gentle wouldn’t be enough to hold Hook here, to calm the turmoil of his spark and force his processor to focus on the present place and time.

Gentle wasn’t good enough, and never would be. But this, _this_...

Kup stroked him, his frame relaxing against Hook’s with each touch. And Hook was here and now, each stroke of his Master’s hand another tether anchoring him.

Hook lay still, licking at the bit in his mouth. He was here and now, his spark safe in this warm, living frame. He was Hook, and he was Kup’s good pet. The omnipresent fear at the edges of his spark dulled to a low and distant white noise.


End file.
